.Cash could’ve seen….Oh god, what is wrong with me? Downstairs, Luke has finally sent Cash back outside and is about to start up the stairs when he sees Hannah coming down. He frowns, noticing how she keeps her head down and avoids meeting his eyes. That look he knows…he takes in the redness of her cheeks and the frightened look on her face. As she reaches the bottom step, she steps past him…very careful not to touch him. Just as she thinks she’s going to manage to slip past him without any problems, he grabs her arm and pulls her close to him. She bites back the desperate urge to cry out as he clutches her arm tightly. Luke stares down at her flushed face. ‘Hannah, we have to talk.’ He turns and starts up the stairs, pulling her along behind him. Determined not to put herself in the position of being alone with him again, she digs her heels in and grabs the railing…gripping it tightly as he tries to pull her up the stairs. ‘Damnit, Hannah…stop acting like a child.’ He turns to look. One last time. “Open wide. I’m gonna fuck your pretty face.”* Meg’s past was a cannonball dragging behind her ankle. The torch she carried inside burned for the present, the future. Herself. Push it. Music blasted through her earbuds, legs pounding the pavement in time with the bass. She checked her watch. Ten minutes per mile. Straightening her shoulders and neck, she powered up her pace. Sweat streamed past her temples, soaked her lower back and chest. Long ago she’d embraced heat like this differently, sweating under stage lights, humidity, and cigarette smoke. Worked the stage with her voice and guitar until her throat was raw. And loved a man who loved cocaine enough to die for it. Blake reminded her of him. Harlan. Block it. I’m not a statistic. Mind over body. No distractions. Go. Fury blazed her guts, drove her faster. The world distorted like a fishbowl with the rapid fire of her sneakers against pavement. Her lungs screamed, legs like lead, begging for a break..
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